Matters of Medical Necessities
by Gixxer Pilot
Summary: An away mission brings a strange guest back to the Enterprise with ties to 21st Century Earth. McCoy wastes no time in picking the newest guest's brain...and getting on his nerves. Light crossover with 2009 Transformers, McCoy centric.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Matters of Medical Necessities

**Author**: Gixxer Pilot

**Summary**: Crossover with Transformers 2007/2009. Leonard McCoy thought he'd seen just about everything space had to offer in the years he'd been stationed on the USS Enterprise. But when Kirk orders an away mission that brings back a strange visitor with ties to 21st Century Earth, McCoy wastes no time in both picking his guest's brain…and pissing him off.

**Author's Note**: This is, as you have probably guessed, a healthy serving of crack. But, since my muses have been yammering away in the back of head, demanding I give this story more depth, there will be drama and a full plot line in the story as well. It's also my first attempt at writing the Star Trek reboot characters, so I hope they're in the ballpark. I just loved Karl Urban's McCoy from the, "I might throw up on you," line and have since jumped on the Bones bandwagon. In either case, I couldn't resist this one when the idea popped into my head the other night. Thanks to Anasazi Darkmoon for help with the title, and for being a sounding board.

I also wanted to make it clear that though this story is technically a crossover, I've chosen to put it in the Star Trek category because it's very much a Star Trek story. In any case, I hope you all enjoy it. Reviews if you see fit, for they are appreciated and personally returned if signed.

**Disclaimer**: I own neither Transformers nor Star Trek. JJ Abrams is awesome, and so is Michael Bay. I am not. Please don't sue.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

"Could someone tell me exactly why Ensign Wiles' nose is currently located two inches away from the center on his face? Because I can assure you gentlemen, in my _professional_ opinion, that's not where it should be." Enterprise physician Leonard "Bones" McCoy none-too-gently poked at the Ensign's face, each touch eliciting a sharp intake of air or a flinch of the damaged face. Turning his back to the patient momentarily, McCoy asked the assembled, non-injured group, "Well, anyone?"

The three upright ensigns trolling through the medical bay with their friend each shuffled and looked down at their feet. There were several unwritten rules aboard the ship, but the most prominent was, 'Avoid McCoy's wrath at all costs.' The snarky, cantankerous physician was a source of fear for many new crewmembers that were not named James T. Kirk. Subsequently, no one had any great desire to be the doctor's next victim.

After hesitation, one of the men finally muttered, "We, uh, were playing…tennis, sir."

McCoy nodded, truly unconvinced. "Tennis? Gentlemen, I did not just fall off the shuttle transport yesterday. If you're going to lie, at least do it with some conviction! Now, what is it you' were really doing?"

Four sets of eyes shifted nervously, each asking the others a silent question. Deciding it was best to cough up the truth, Ensign Haise finally supplied, "Playing football, sir."

McCoy crossed his arms over his broad chest. He scoffed. "Oh. Football? As in the annual football tournament we hold on this ship?"

The Ensign on the biobed, Wiles, piped up. "Not…_that_ football, sir."

"And what other 'football' would there be, other than the one that involves kicking a round ball into one of two large goals on opposite sides of the field?"

Wiles sighed. There was no getting out of this one. "We were playing that old American football, sir. You know, the one that involves tackling and whatnot?"

Bones had to suppress the urge to throw something. "American football? You mean the nearly ancient one that was outlawed 100 years ago because it was so barbaric? _That_ American football?"

The four Ensigns looked down, shamed, and in unison said, "Yes, sir."

"Please tell me you were at least wearing pads."

The four men shook their heads to side to side, indicating the answer to the negative.

McCoy began to pace. "Well, that's just terrific! And how many others have been playing this game? Should I make room for them, too?"

Before his mouth's filter had time to catch up with his brain, Ensign Stevens said rather matter of factly, "Well, sir, the game is played full contact with eleven players a side, so yeah, that might be a good idea."

McCoy narrowed his eyes. "How long, exactly does this game last?"

"And hour, sir. Four, fifteen minute quarters."

Bones continued to pace. "Uh, huh. And what quarter were you in when Ensign Wiles' nose was smashed to space dust?"

There was an uncomfortable pause in the medical bay. No one dared answer. Finally, Wiles bit his lip and answered the question. "The warm-up, sir."

McCoy was incredulous. But before he could truly tear the strips off the young officers, Spock's voice sounded over the comm.

"Bridge to Doctor McCoy."

"McCoy here," the Doctor barked, louder and harsher than was specifically necessary.

"Doctor, we are picking up a strange reading from surface of the planet Aures II. The Captain has ordered me to assemble an away team, and he requests your presence."

"Of course he does." Bones slammed his hand down on the comm. button, effectively hanging up on Spock. He grabbed his kit and checked the supplies. Satisfied, he turned toward the young men in his medbay. "Now, I'm leaving you four morons in the capable hands of Nurse Chapel. When I get back, we're all going to have a nice, long discussion with the Captain about appropriate games to play, and ways to keep your sorry asses out of my sickbay!"

McCoy turned on his heel and strode out the door before any of his charges could say a word. As soon as he was clear, Wiles said, "Do you think we should have told him Captain Kirk was coaching the other team?"

The next time Chapel made her way back to triage for check ups, Ensign Wiles' nose was bleeding anew, his three friends were nowhere to be found.

* * *

McCoy took the turbolift up to the main level and strode coolly onto the bridge. Kirk was already there, seated in his customary Captain's chair. Bones was none too pleased at being dragged away from his work for yet another field trip at Jim's request, but the man _was_ the Captain. It didn't mean McCoy had to like it, and he wasted no time in making his displeasure abundantly clear.

"Dr. McCoy reporting as ordered, Captain. To what curiosity do I owe this honor?"

McCoy was probably the only man on the ship who could get away with blatant insubordination to the Captain. Spock had once theorized it was because McCoy had to put up with Kirk as a patient when the man was sick or injured. Spock's logical, Vulcan mind figured fair was indeed fair, and Bones dished out the verbal snark as good as he got.

Kirk, sitting with one leg up on his chair and eating an apple, pointed one finger in Uhura's direction. He gave her a nod that clearly said,' Go ahead.'

"We were passing over the planet Aures II when I picked up a strange signal emanating from the planet's surface. It's one I've never seen before, so I had Sulu circle back around. I heard it again on the last sweep. I recalibrated the instruments and then I reanalyzed it, and I'm sure it's not just gravometric interference. There's something down there, sir."

"So? Run another scan and figure out what it is. I don't see the reason to have my atoms scrambled once again because of some whim," Bones grumbled.

"Doctor, perhaps you should take a moment to contemplate what the Lieutenant just said," Spock carefully admonished.

"And I'm telling you I heard her the first time. What's so different about this particular scan that you think we need to go traipsing through some backwater planet in order to find what you think may be an item of interest?" McCoy snapped back.

Uhura bristled and sat up straighter in her chair. Though she truly did care for the doctor, she often wondered how a man with absolutely no tact could end up in the medical field. His beside manner must be appalling. "I informed the Captain, _Doctor_," she started, "because the signal wasn't from any kind of life form in our files. It simply puzzled me, that's all."

McCoy, pushing aside his sarcasm for a brief moment, asked, "Aures II is an M class planet?"

Uhura nodded. "Correct, sir. It's also, according to Federation data, supposed to be uninhabited, which makes this more interesting."

Kirk finished his apple and tossed the core in the recycler. Pacing around his chair, he announced, "And that, ladies and gentleman, is precisely why I'm leading an away team down to the planet to find out what exactly is going on."

"Captain, it is not logical, nor is it necessary for you to go to the planet's surface. We have very little data about Aures II, and as the Lieutenant mentioned, it is unpopulated. There is no need to take such risks," Spock's smooth voice broke the silence from his position behind Kirk, once again reminding him of regulations.

Kirk strode up to Spock leaned over to address his second in command in a quiet tone. "Spock, how long have I been the captain of this ship?"

"Just over one Earth year, Captain."

"And in that time, how often have I listened to you about not leading away missions?" Kirk responded.

"Never once, sir."

The young Captain smiled and clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Why start now?"

"Indeed." The Vulcan turned and addressed his console.

Turning from Spock's console and departing the bridge, Kirk called over the comm to his chief engineer. "Scotty!"

"Scotty here!"

"Meet me in the transporter room. The good doctor and I will be beaming down to Aures II."

"You got it, Captain."

* * *

"Remind me to kick you in the ass when we get back to the ship."

McCoy hated away missions, especially ones involving long hikes through barren wasteland. He was a born and bred Georgian. He hated snow and he hated cold, both of which were in abundance on Aures II. If someone had told him that this godforsaken place was an ice planet _before_ he'd beamed down to the surface, McCoy would have flat out refused to go. Picking his way through the ass crack of the frozen tundra was not his idea of a good way to spend the day. Between the simply egregious amounts of layers it took to keep him warm and the general thickness of the snow gear, Bones was sure he was doing a damned good impression of a waddling penguin as he moved from one place to the next.

Kirk swiveled around to face the CMO. His face was slightly obscured by the Starfleet issued hood he wore, but the smirk was unmistakably present. He couldn't resist having a little fun with his friend and fellow officer. "What's the matter, Bones? You don't like this place?"

At the adamant glare McCoy threw in his direction, Kirk knew the man was ready to lobotomize him. But, he couldn't help it and continued to needle the doctor.

"We're getting fresh air, enjoying the countryside, and exercising. What's not to like about this place? It's beautiful!" Kirk gestured with his gloved hands to the glaciers and snow-covered mountains surrounding them. "Besides, the last time I was on a planet like this, I had just been marooned by Spock and was being chased by giant snow creatures with really, really big teeth. Don't complain. The cold won't kill you."

"Says the kid from the Midwest. I'm from the South. 'Cold' to us is 40 degrees. We panic. Things shut down. People start to hoard food. No, Jim, this is most certainly _not_ my idea of fun!" McCoy knew he was dangerously close to the line that distinguished 'bitching' from 'pouting,' but by this particular juncture, he was too cranky and cold to care.

"Aww, buck up, old man. It's not that bad."

Bones, irritated, snapped back, "I'm not _that_ old."

Kirk threw back his head and laughed. "Yeah, you are." He trotted easily back to his struggling friend put his arm around the CMO's shoulders. "Come on. Let's go check out these readings so we can get you back to your nice, warm medical bay."

"Right." McCoy took a deep breath. '_Be a Starfleet officer_,' he told himself. Out loud, he asked, "Now, where did Uhura say those readings were coming from?"

"Around here, though she said she couldn't pinpoint it like normal. Something with the planet's core was giving the long range sensors trouble." Kirk answered. He looked around in a circle. All he saw was ice forest and glacial walls. With the whipping wind and unforgiving temperature, nothing would survive out here unprotected for long. Squinting, Kirk saw a cave mouth in the distance, hidden by an outcropping of rocks. Whacking Bones on the arm, he pointed. "But I'll bet, if there's anyone alive out here, they're probably tucked up in there."

McCoy mentally judged the distance from his current spot to the cave as Kirk took off ahead of him. Again. It was easily a couple of kilometers over some rough, slippery terrain. Muttering an, "Unbelievable," under his breath, McCoy tried as best he could to catch up with Kirk's easy gait.

An hour later, the two men finally reached the entrance. Kirk poked his head in and took a brief survey of the area, his energy level still high. Bones staggered in, panting and coughing from the exertion and collapsed at the first, safe solid piece of ground he came to. Yes, McCoy was definitely going to kick Jim Kirk squarely in the ass for dragging him down here…once he had the energy.

Kirk took off his glove to study the cave's entrance. "Bones, are you seeing this?"

"Seeing what? Stars?" McCoy, having managed to catch most of his breath, heaved himself to his feet. His eyes still adjusting to the rather dim light, Bones asked, "What is it, Jim?"

Kirk ran his hand along the cave's entrance. "This place is new. Feel all these rocks? They're sharp, like something just went right through it. Caves like this on a planet this type should have rocks that are worn and weathered. Smooth."

McCoy's curiosity was piqued. As much as he hated admitting it, the Captain was right. The cave was in a completely random spot. There was no river or lake nearby to have created it, and the entire planet was basically covered ice. The cave itself was round and seemed to go straight back at a slight downward angle, as if something had fallen into it.

"Do you have that extra light in your medkit?"

McCoy fumbled around a bit with his gear, having some significant trouble freeing himself from the layers of clothing around him. Finally able to use his hands again, Bones snapped the case open and procured two small, yet powerful flashlights from within. He handed one to Kirk and reserved one for himself. "Yeah. Right here."

Taking the light from the CMO, Kirk flipped it on. His eyes widened at the sight before him. The cave did go back and down relatively far, probably fifty meters or so. And, it had to have been made by something other than nature, as the design was simply one long corridor. The Enterprise captain began slowly venturing down into the cave to see what was at the bottom.

"Jim!" McCoy hissed, planting his feet in place. "Where are you going?"

Kirk stopped and spun around. Pointing toward the depths of the cave, he replied, "Exploring, Bones. That's what we're here to do."

"Didn't you just get done reminding me what happened last time you were on a planet like this? What if there's something down there with 500 eyes and hideously large teeth?"

"And what if there isn't? Come on. Let's just get this done."

As Kirk walked away, Bones cursed his own luck. He picked up his medkit all while mumbling, "Of all the stupid, reckless idiotic captains in Starfleet, I get stuck with this one. Why me?"

From down in the cave, Kirk's voice floated out of the darkness. "I heard that!"

"Of course you did," he answered to no one in particular. Bones walked, alternately cursing Kirk and then cursing himself for signing up for Starfleet in the first place. He was engrossed in his internalized argument with himself that he didn't realize as short bit later that Jim had stopped. McCoy walked into the back of his best friend and nearly fell over.

"Dammit, man! Would you tell me when you're gonna stop like that?"

When Kirk didn't reply, Bones kept going. "I mean, you drag me down here, to this cold excuse of a planet, away from my medical bay and into a cave--"

McCoy's mouth only stopped moving when he realized what Kirk was staring at. In front of the two men was a large, grey mass. Almost metallic in nature, it mimicked humanoid features with two arms, two legs and a head. It was almost in a sitting position, with its arms wrapped up around its knees. From the two humans' perspectives, it appeared to be…huge.

"What the sam hell is that?" McCoy asked, stunned.

Kirk inched up to it carefully and reached one hand out. His fingers inches away from what appeared to be the alien's face, McCoy ran up and snatched Jim's hand down.

"Jim, no! You don't know what that thing may do to you. I don't even know if it's alive!" McCoy, ever the physician, had positioned himself between Kirk and the unknown alien.

Kirk laughed. "Well, then scan it, Bones and tell me if it's going to bite my hand off."

The doctor grabbed his tricorder and ran a passive scan. "Whatever this is, we can be sure that it's the same thing giving off the readings Uhura picked up. The scan is the same." McCoy continued his work, walking around the creature to gather data. "It's giving off a signal still. It's weak, but it's there. I'm not sure if that means it's alive and hurt, or if it means it's just resting."

The captain tilted his head inquisitively, studying what appeared to be the creature's face.

"But, whatever it is, it's probably not going to kill you. All scans are clear."

"Great. What is it?"

Rolling his eyes, McCoy groaned. Jerking his thumb in the newest discovery's direction, Bones quipped, "Jim, I'm a doctor, not a mechanic. Turning this thing on looks like Scotty's area of expertise, not mine."

Both of their backs to their newest discovery neither Kirk nor McCoy saw light ring around the azure blue optics of the alien creature sitting before them. Before their brains could register the sound of moving and clanging parts, a deep, sarcastic drawl bit through the cave.

"And I'm not a veterinarian, either. You two _animals_ are standing on my foot."

Though they would never admit it, even under pain of death, Kirk and McCoy, at that very moment, both screamed like little girls.

* * *

**Next Up**: Kirk hatches a devious plan with the Enterprises' newest guest, and Bones finally gets a taste of his own medicine.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes**: This freaking plotbunny has eaten a hole through my brain. I do not write this fast. Ever. It's physically impossible. And from the looks of it, this story is no longer just crack. It's going to become a full-blown story with an actual plot, instead of just the crazy nonsense I'd originally planned. And it's even spawned a side story, god help me. *facepalm*

Please forgive any technical Trekkie inaccuracies. I'm new to this fandom, and I have yet to accumulate the wealth of knowledge similar to what I've garnered for the Giant Fighting Robots fandom. (Yes, I'm making that a noun, lol!) I made up the stardate, so if it's wrong, I'm sorry.

**Disclaimer**: I checked the other day, and much to my dismay, I found I don't own Transformers or Star Trek. Does being a shameless Karl Urban fangirl count? Nope? Dammit, man! That sucks!

* * *

**Chapter 2**

"Jesus Christ on Mt. Everest! What the hell?!" McCoy yelped and jumped back as the large being reached out one hand. Bones was sure he was going to be squished by a few metric tons of angry…something, but instead of the expected pain, the alien reached into his chest cavity and began fiddling. Lights soon began to click on, one by one, and though he was no engineer, Bones did know enough to recognize the whirl of mechanical systems activating.

The light around what Kirk and McCoy thought were the eyes brightened when fluids and power snaked back through the alien's systems. Flexing its neck from side to side, it regarded the two humans carefully.

Jim leaned over and whispered, "Bones, no sudden moves."

"Jim, I don't think I could move right now if my life depended on it," McCoy responded, equally hushed.

Later, when McCoy wasn't literally afraid for his life, he would recall that the new alien very nearly executed a perfect eyeroll in the direction of the doctor and the captain. When it finally spoke, Bones was pleasantly surprised at the impeccable standard it used. Unfortunately for the doctor, that was really the only high point of his new acquaintance.

"I asked you two a question, and that usually means a response. Why are you animals still standing on my foot? Kindly get off before I throw you off!" The large alien tilted his head to the side, the silvery metal plates that looked to nearly resemble eyebrows furrowing in what appeared to irritation. His voice was smooth and deep, though not basso. It was a solid tenor voice, one that would get respect and was probably used in some sort of command function. It also, McCoy noted with a grimace, had a stinging barb to it not entirely dissimilar to his own.

Kirk and McCoy were both stunned into gaping silence. Being in Starfleet, both men had grown accustomed to greeting strange beings from other worlds and not thinking twice about it. But, they'd never seen one quite like this. Here, in front of them, seemed to be a very tall, very angry, walking, talking _robot_. McCoy, as the doctor, would have guessed the sex of the robot to be male, if robots did indeed have genders.

He looked like he was constructed from some type of metal, though what kind neither man could hazard a guess. The alien had begun to flex his upper torso in an impressive display of technology or evolution. Now that they were able to see him move, both Kirk and McCoy could see the distinctly humanoid features, even if they were only able to observe the top half of his body. And he had the brightest blue eyes or…whatever Bones and Kirk had ever seen.

Jim raised one eyebrow, trying to recover at least a little bit of his dignity after squeaking like a girl only moments before. Kirk stepped forward. "Okay, let's start from the beginning. James T. Kirk, Captain, USS Enterprise." He extended his hand in formal greeting only to have the large alien stare at it and do nothing. Kirk motioned again, looking up at the new being. "This is the part where you introduce yourself. I know you speak Standard, otherwise you wouldn't have yelled at us. So come on. We won't bite."

The alien shook its head. "Of course I speak your language, you idiots! It's called English! Now, for the third time, _get off my foot!_"

Looking down, McCoy and Kirk both realized that they were indeed, still conveniently placed on his foot. Both men instantly obeyed, each stepping back a couple of paces to give the newfound alien a wide berth. He stood, joints popping and hissing. It reminded Kirk of the old car of his stepfather's he wrecked when he was thirteen. The car, because it was nearly ancient, had all sorts of quirks and funny habits. It also made a veritable boatload of weird noises, some of which were similar to the sounds Kirk was hearing now. The major difference was only that Kirk's stepfather's car wasn't alive. '_Semantics, really_,' Kirk thought.

The alien stretched, seemingly grateful for the ability to move around. The humans craned their necks upward. 'Huge' was an understatement. McCoy and Kirk had never seen a being so tall. He was more than double their size, towering over them a shade over twenty feet. Most humanoid cultures contacted by the Federation were eerily similar to the human contingent from which they came. Size was roughly the same, or sometimes smaller, depending on the needs of the society. There were very few races that were habitually larger, but this one would dwarf them all.

Bones' physician's eye followed every smooth move the alien made, his keen mind analyzing the build of the creature before them. His structure was not entirely dissimilar to humans, as it appears he had support rods in the places people would have bones, cables where people would have muscle, and was quite obviously sentient. Shaking his head, McCoy finally spit out the question he'd been meaning to ask but had yet to find the words. "And what, exactly, are you?"

"I suppose I owe you that much courtesy, though Primus knows why," came the sarcastic reply. The alien seemed to sigh. Both Kirk and McCoy felt a wash of warmth run over their bodies, almost like an old radiator dispelling the heat from an engine. He drew himself up straight, his optics regarding the two humans below. "My name is Ratchet. I am an autonomous robotic organism from the planet Cybertron, but you may call me an Autobot for short."

"Autobot. Got it," Kirk nodded, his brain still processing all the information. "So what are doing on this planet?"

"I was sent ahead by my leader to scout a suitable place on which to construct a new home. My navigational arrays were damaged by an unexpected comet strike, and I crashed here," Ratchet said. Turning his gaze on the doctor, he drawled, "And now that I've shared my information, I don't believe I've gotten the pleasure of your name."

Very little intimidated Leonard McCoy in his line of work. Admirals, generals and some of the universe's most premier politicians all did little to ruffle Bones' sarcastic and snarky nature. But this alien, Ratchet, and his damned steely blue-eyed gaze was freaking him out, if only a little. McCoy felt like the guy's eyes could bore holes through his head. He cleared his throat and swallowed down the lump that had formed there. "Leonard McCoy. Chief Medical Officer aboard the aforementioned Enterprise."

Ratchet tilted his head to the side in silent contemplation. There were many questions that he could not answer, and hopefully these humans could help him out. For now, he'd just have to get the two people to trust him. Ratchet's first plan was to start with what he knew, and _that_ meant talking with the human doctor. "Chief Medical Officer? You're in the U.S. military?"

"U.S.?" Kirk asked. "I'm from Iowa, but we're with the Federation."

"The Federation? Of what?" Ratchet raised his arm, his mouth forming a question, and then stopped. "Gentlemen, what year is it?"

McCoy and Kirk exchanged glances. Kirk was genuinely confused. "Year? We haven't used years in quite a while. Do you mean startdate? 2259.42."

Ratchet shook his head. "No! I have no idea what a 'stardate' is. Year, morons, years! 2010? 2050? What?"

The wheels in the young captain's head began to turn. How long exactly had Ratchet been marooned on Aures II or drifting aimlessly out in space? Kirk took two steps forward and put his hands on his hips. He tried his best to contain his amusement, but scowled internally as some of it leaked out through his voice. "Uh, Ratchet? I think you may want to sit down."

The Autobot looked clearly puzzled and slightly offended. "And why might that be?"

Bones sensed where Kirk was going and ran a hand along his brow. "Because it's 2259."

Ratchet sat back down, his large form shaking the small cavern. Bringing one hand up to his forehead, he said only, "Oh, _frag._"

Jim sidled up to Ratchet as close as he dared. "Are you going to squish me? Kill me? Punt me across the cave like a little football?"

Ratchet looked up from his position on the ground, despondent. "No. I will none of the above"

"All right!" Kirk clapped his hands together and trotted up to Ratchet. "Then maybe this will be something better discussed on my ship. "

The Autobot medic cycled his vents in absolute relief. The soldier in him demanded that he complete the mission, or at least try to ascertain if any of his kind still existed in the universe. But his pride didn't relish asking some puny humans for help off this backwater hellhole of a planet. However, at the present juncture, Ratchet knew he didn't have much choice. He was literally stuck between a rock and a hard place. Apparently, his internal chronometer had suffered quite a bit of damage as well, if it put him so far out of touch with time itself.

Straightening, Ratchet answered, "That would be agreeable, Captain."

Kirk nodded and called Scotty. "Scotty! Do you have us?"

The cheerful Scotsman's voice came wafting through the air. "Yes, sir. I have two of you and another, very large, very alien signal."

Bones huffed. If Scotty only knew how _accurate_ that description was…

Kirk chose to ignore the doom and gloom seeping from his CMO in palpable waves. Instead, he addressed his chief engineer. "Good. Now, I know we're not going to fit in the transporter room, so you're going to find the biggest shuttle we have and strip it down to all but two seats and a place for the pilot. Have Sulu fly it down when you're done."

"Aye, sir, but I don't understand why we can't just beam you up!"

McCoy snorted a laugh. "Just wait until we get to the ship, Mr. Scott. Then you'll understand."

Before he closed the comm, Kirk asked, "Oh, and Scotty?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"How much room do we have in the aft cargo bay?"

Scotty leaned back in his chair. "Plenty, but I--"

Kirk cut him off before he could finish the sentence. "That's all I needed to know, Mr. Scott. Kirk out."

Up on the Enterprise, the chief engineer scratched his head. Whatever the hell was going on down there had to be mighty interesting. Hopping off his stool, Scotty yelled to the group of assembled young engineers, "Well, you heard the captain! Stop standing around and get going to it!"

* * *

Ratchet's opinion on humans was that they really had an annoying habit of getting under his protoform. And in 200 years, apparently nothing hadn't changed, at least in that regard.

When Sulu touched down on Aures II in the newly retrofitted shuttle, the pilot had taken one look at Kirk, McCoy and Ratchet emerging from the cave, turned back for the shuttle, and wisely said nothing. But it was the stares, the hushed whispers and the surreptitious glances being thrown his direction that really had Ratchet wanting to go Megatron on the next human who happened to yelp in surprise in his presence.

As soon as the shuttle docked and the doors dropped, all activity in the cargo bay came to a grinding halt. And when Ratchet slowly and painstakingly inched his way out of the cramped space, every single set of eyes in the place locked onto him and refused to budge. Sensing his guest's discomfort, it was only an order from Kirk to clear the cargo bay of any non-essential personnel that finally earned the small group some privacy.

Ratchet watched with sharp optics as the steady stream of disgruntled Enterprise crewmembers exited the cavernous space. Against the flow of traffic, the Autobot CMO picked up one lone, lithe figure in blue making his way gracefully into the room. Although he appeared at first glance to be human, Ratchet's sophisticated medical scan told him otherwise. His genetics were much more complex, but not unduly so. That, and the set of pointed ears were a dead giveaway.

Spock came to a halt in front of the assembled trio of Ratchet, Kirk and McCoy. He tilted his head slightly to the side and quipped, "Fascinating. The Captain told me he encountered an alien being on the surface, though I am loath to admit this is not what I was expecting."

"I'll bet," came Ratchet's dry response. Well, at least the pointy-eared fellow wasn't gaping openly. It was a start.

Spock regarded the Autobot in curiosity. "Apologies. I am Spock, Captain Kirk's First Officer. May I assume that the unusual signal we found can be traced back to you?"

"I'm sure it was."

Spock turned to his friend and captain. "Captain, permission to speak freely?"

Kirk looked around at the empty room and replied, "Spock. Do you see anyone around us? We're all friends, so say whatever the hell you want. You don't have to ask for my permission to talk."

Locking his hands behind his back, Spock said, "Captain, I feel it prudent yet again to remind you that even though we _are_ friends, you are still the captain of this vessel. As such, I feel it is my duty to conduct myself in a manner due that station in your presence."

Kirk rolled his eyes, jokingly exasperated. As he would continue to ignore regulation, Spock would be there to remind him of their existence. "Whatever, Spock. Fine. When people are around, ask. But if no one's here, for god's sake, will you just talk?"

"Noted, Captain."

McCoy was unsure as to why he decided to hang around. Wanting desperately to curl up in his warm quarters with a steaming hot cup of bourbon coffee and a good book, Bones sincerely hoped Spock and Kirk would stop arguing like an old married couple and get to the damned point. The doctor crossed his arms over his chest and drawled, "Are you going to spit it out anytime soon, Spock? I've got things to do."

Spock didn't hesitate. When Dr. McCoy was in one of his 'moods,' as Jim called it, the Vulcan found it was best to fight fire with fire. "Then perhaps it would be wise for you to see to it, Doctor. There is nothing keeping you here, unless our newest guest requires a full physical."

Ratchet nearly snorted sarcastically. "I'm a medic. I can take care of that myself, thank you."

McCoy peered into the expectant faces of Kirk, Spock and Ratchet and threw in the figurative towel. Snarling some foul epithets in both the captain and first officer's respective directions, the doctor nearly stomped out of the cargo bay and down the hall.

Kirk watched his friend go, exasperation and laughter silently warring for control over his face. No one could ever tell him his CMO didn't have a bit of temper, and as Bones' best and probably only friend, Jim got the brunt of it. Looking up at Ratchet, Kirk assured, "Don't worry about Bones. Crankiness is a chronic affliction of his."

"Your doctor isn't my concern, Captain. If he wants to be miserable, I have no trouble letting him stay that way," Ratchet answered.

Kirk snorted. He liked this Ratchet already. The Captain climbed up and seated himself on a box near the wall. Sitting was so much more comfortable. "So, Ratchet? What was your mission?"

"As I told you on the planet, I was sent by my leader to scout a new planet on which to colonize our race. At the time I left, we had been deeply entrenched in civil war for centuries, one that nearly wiped out my race. We left Earth as soon as the war was over, for you had no reason to fear our enemies at that point. That was 2025, and I have been apparently floating through space and then stuck on that Primusforsaken planet for some time now."

The warning bells were ringing in Jim's head. "No, no, no. I'm sorry, but if you were on Earth 200 years ago, I think we would have heard about you. I mean, it's not like you can just hide in plain sight!" Kirk rebutted. Something didn't quite smell right, and Jim never minced words.

Ratchet raised an optic ridge. His response was deeply cryptic, the context of which Kirk would only discover the true meaning some time later. "You'd be surprised, Captain. We are capable of more than your feeble human mind can possibly imagine. But to answer you question, your government decided that secrecy was our best weapon. Our existence was concealed for the greater good."

"Though I tend to me much less cynical than the Captain, I must concur with his logic. Why, indeed, have we heard nothing about you?" Spock asked.

Ratchet's optics dimmed momentarily as he found a channel to scan for the latest data. It took him a moment to adapt to the new data stream, though he found it to be a pleasant surprise. Given the simply archaic technology he'd encountered on his last visit with humans, the speed at which he was able to rifle through over 200 years of history was a welcome achievement. Finally, he found the information for which he was searching, and not surprisingly, it was nowhere near the truth. There was no mention of Megatron, The Fallen or the subsequent aftermath surrounding the Decepticons. Putting together the data into a three-dimensional package, the Autobot CMO activated his holo-projectors and began the playback.

Kirk's jaw slackened, though it didn't drop as he watched the lifelike images paint a picture of a history he could never know about. He remembered reading about the images before him in school when he was young, though he had likely been given the sanitized version.

Two hundred years before he was born, Jim learned a controlled government experiment with artificial intelligence had gone horribly wrong, and several thousand people were killed when the product of that research gained sentience. The first to fall victim was a town called Mission City, and the second the pyramids of Egypt. A containment team was brought in and order was restored. The world was fed a bunch of bogus information, apparently, and anyone with too much knowledge of the project randomly disappeared or was relocated in some form or fashion.

'_The cover-up,'_ Kirk thought bitterly. '_Nice to know the military and the government haven't changed in that regard.'_

Though deftly more tactful, Spock's logical mind was spinning as well. The data was sound. The research was top notch. Ratchet had information no one else could, and sources to back it up. Spock concluded that either this creature was a terrific spy, or he _was_ actually a marooned alien robot. If this stranger was who he claimed to be, he had invaluable knowledge of Earth's history. If that were truly the case, as explorers, it was something he knew could not be passed up. But still, the human part of Spock's mind wondered how easy would it be for one to throw away everything that was _supposed_ to be concrete history and accept the facts from a complete stranger.

Sensing the apprehension, Ratchet supplied, "You don't have to believe a word I say. I don't expect it. I am looking to do nothing more than to find out if any of my species has survived. From there, it's up to you what you think and do."

Kirk smiled. "Well, we'll never know unless we give you the chance, right?" Perhaps it was too trusting of him, but the more he thought, the more he actually believed Ratchet. And thanks to Nero, one of the first things he learned in his young career was to go with his instincts and hold his ground. Right now seemed like an awfully good time to do just that. "You said you want to try and figure out if any of your species has survived. How can we help?"

Spock chose this moment to make his way over toward Kirk. Putting his back toward Ratchet, the Vulcan asked in a hushed tone, "Captain, I must again renew my stance. Is this indeed the most logical avenue?"

The Enterprise captain fixed his first officer with a cocky little smirk. Clapping Spock on the bicep much as he did during the fight with Nero, Kirk looked his friend in the eye and said, "Trust me. He's okay."

Spock's eyebrows bounced upward and then down again in acceptance. "I do trust you, Jim. Implicitly. That is why I fear I will not like where you're headed with this."

Kirk hopped down off the boxes to stop near Ratchet's left foot. "I will allow you all the resources you need in order to find your species. But, I need your reassurance you're not going to blow up my ship and hurt my crew, so that privilege is going to come with some ground rules."

Ratchet narrowed his optics. In his experience with humans, the species rarely did anything without expecting something of equal or greater value in return. "Understood. But _if_ I accept your help, what is it you require in return?"

"I don't require anything in return. My standing orders as captain of this vessel are to protect, defend and explore, and I can't do that very well if I don't at least make an effort to help you." Kirk stopped, but brought up one finger to make his final point. "My only requirement is that you be accompanied by a member of my crew whom I trust at all times."

Ratchet was incensed. "I do not require a babysitter."

Kirk held up his hands. "I'm not saying you do. But, my security chief would have my balls on a plate if she found out you were causing a ruckus unaccompanied, so let's make it a compromise. I won't hand you over to her. Instead, your…" Kirk paused, searching for the right word, "liaison will be Dr. McCoy. You both share the medical field, so maybe you can learn something from one another."

Spock's lips twitched, the Vulcan equivalent of laughing out loud. Now he knew where Kirk was going with his little plan. So Jim had indeed recognized the behavioral similarities in the two CMOs. Spock had to hand it to his friend. Though he was young, the man was simply devious, and he knew his crew well. To preserve his stoic front, Spock said nothing but shot Kirk a look clearly asking, _'What's the point of this?'_

Kirk responded with a passive shrug of his shoulders, the meaning behind it clearly saying, '_Because I'm the Captain, and therefore I can_.'

Ratchet cycled his vents. What Kirk proposed did seem fair, and the faster he could figure out what happened to Optimus, Ironhide and any other surviving Autobots, the faster he could get off this ship. He could put with the indignity of being tailed by a human doctor in the interim. Kneeling down the Kirk's level, the Autobot medic agreed. "You have a deal, Captain."

"Good. Uh, for tonight, I think it might be wise for you to stay in the cargo bay. I'm going to seal it off, and we can explain to Scotty in the morning what's going on in here," Kirk suggested.

"That would be acceptable. My systems are still not completely recovered after being in the deep freeze of Aures II for that extended of a time," Ratchet answered.

Spock and Kirk both bid their goodbyes. Ratchet just grunting in acknowledgement, settling in against the solid bulkhead to rest and repair his damaged systems.

"I do believe your next trip to medbay will likely be an unpleasant one," Spock gently chided as the two men strolled down the corridor to Kirk's cabin. "The good doctor will undoubtedly be quite displeased with his new assignment."

Jim laughed, turning to enter the code to his personal quarters. "Lighten up, Spock. It'll be worth it. Besides, as you just pointed out, it's my ass on the line, not yours. Just sit back and enjoy it."

"Indeed. To use a human colloquialism, I believe you are 'taking one for the team,' Captain." Spock lifted one eyebrow and leaned into Jim's personal space before responding. He shifted his eyes about again to be sure no one was within an earshot. "I must thank you for it, Jim. This shall prove to be most entertaining."

Kirk scoffed hard. "Yeah. It'll only be good if one of them doesn't kill me first."

* * *

**Next Up**: Scotty meets Ratchet and McCoy gets his new assignment. In typical McCoy fashion, Bones is less than thrilled.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes:** Holy crap! You all like this? Awesome! Like my first story Alienated, I never really planned on posting this one. It was just something I was going to bang out quick because it was trying to eat my brain. But, like all my other stories, I have yet to be able to do something short, and this story is no exception. It's still growing. In any case, you all can thank Anasazi Darkmoon for telling me that I should both write it and post it. She's really the only reason this story exists in the first place! I do also apologize for the length of time between updates. I've been busily writing away at a side story based on an event in this chapter, which I will commence posting in a few days (hopefully).

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything remotely related to the good ship Enterprise, nor that of the giant fighting robots. They belong to Paramount and Hasbro, respectively. Don't sue me. Really.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Kirk dropped into his quarters just long enough to jump in the sonic shower and grab a fresh change of clothes. Off duty for the evening, he chose a simple getup of black pants and shirt similar to what he'd worn during the whole Nero debacle. Jim grabbed his communicator off the nightstand, slapped it on his chest, and walked out the door.

The quarters of the Captain's quarters zipped shut behind him. Kirk turned and addressed the computer console. "Computer, location of Dr. Leonard McCoy."

A benign female voice responded, "_Dr. McCoy is presently located in his quarters_."

Jim cracked his neck back and forth. In Spock's words, McCoy would, "undoubtedly be quite displeased," and it was going to be one hell of a knock down, drag out fight to get his friend to agree. And simply because he was Kirk, his slightly antagonistic nature was going enjoy every second of it. In his esteemed, captain's opinion, Bones needed someone to rattle his cage every now and again. And if that person happened to be the man in charge of the Enterprise, then perhaps it was just one of the perks of command.

Kirk found himself in front of Bones' quarters. He rang the door chime, louder and longer than was probably necessary. When Bones didn't answer, Kirk rang again, nodding to a couple of Ensigns passing in the hallway. Still nothing.

Jim sighed, running and hand through his hair. He snap-clapped his hands together a couple of times as he took one step back. Kirk entered his manual override code into the lock panel on Bones' quarters, frowning when the door didn't open. The Captain's code was supposed to be able to override every lock on the ship. Trust Bones to figure out a way around the Captain.

'_You've got to be the only genius-level repeat offender in the Midwest._' Pike's voice rang through Jim's head, a sinister smile making its way across the young captain's face. Pike didn't call him out on his record for nothing. Looking over his shoulders, for what he was about to do would be highly unbecoming of a Starfleet captain, Kirk dropped to one knee and popped the access panel off the wall. He quickly bypassed a couple of sensor nodes and pressed the proper contact points with the practiced ease of a long-time criminal. Beeping positively, the door whooshed open and the Enterprise Captain stepped into his CMO's personal living space.

Kirk gave his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the darkness of the room. It'd been a while since he'd been inside Bones' quarters, and he wasn't surprised to find them still sparse. Kirk shook his head. The man worked far too hard and slept much too little, most times catching a few hours' sleep at his desk or on the cot in his office. When the Enterprise left space dock after being repaired after her fight with the Narada, Kirk often wondered why he'd even bothered assigning McCoy personal space to begin with.

The living space for the Enterprise's Chief Medical Officer was supposed to be somewhat luxurious by military standards. It was one of the few perks of the job. Bones' quarters, on the other hand, was not. It was really just one big room, much like the studio apartments of the 20th and 21st centuries, sans kitchen. A bed sat along the far wall and bathroom off to the left. Situated against the opposite wall was a desk, the surface of which littered with PADDs. Bookcases and a small closet sat near the bed, but the space felt figuratively cold and somewhat unwelcoming. As Kirk's eyes bounced from wall to wall, he noticed a conspicuous absence of most personal touches most crew members often brought to remind them of home. Kirk made a mental note to talk to Bones about that.

Jim walked stealthily into the room, careful to keep the lights off. He cocked his head to the side, listening for the sound of the only reason the doctor used his quarters: his real, honest to goodness running water shower. Kirk always wondered who or what entity McCoy blackmailed in order to have a real shower installed in the CMOs quarters aboard a starship. In the years that they had served together, the Captain's friend and ship's doctor had been rather tight lipped on the subject. It wasn't that McCoy didn't deserve it, but it was a bit out of place.

Jim shook his head. He was here on business, and he was listening for the shower or for Bones' annoyingly loud snoring. The latter was an embarrassing habit the doctor vehemently denied, though Kirk had first hand knowledge to refute his friend. When no obnoxiously heinous noise could be heard from the bed, Jim crept toward the bathroom. The light was on and the door closed, signifying Bones' presence inside. A few seconds later, Kirk heard the shower snap off. Since waiting was never really his forte, the Captain settled himself comfortably down on McCoy's bed to wait.

Bones walked out of the bathroom in nothing but his underwear, a towel slung around his broad shoulders. For a man who took very little time to care for himself, McCoy cut an impressive figure. Kirk always figured Bones stayed in shape by hauling around unruly patients by their species-specific ear and then tossing them onto the biobeds all day long. The Captain smirked at the thought as McCoy rubbed at his hair to dry it, the latter still oblivious to his Captain parked casually on his bed.

"Lights. Fifty percent," the doctor barked as he exited his bathroom. The lights came up, and in one smooth motion, Bones tossed the used towel on his bed. Kirk instinctively reached out to catch the flying piece of cloth as it sailed toward his head. When the bed moved, McCoy jumped back, cursing loudly. "Dammit, man! What the hell? That's the second time today! Are you purposely trying to give me a heart attack?"

"Hiya, Bones," Kirk was stretched out on his back, his feet crossed at the ankles, arms behind his head, and his head pillowed on his forearms.

"Jim." McCoy growled. He was most decidedly _not_ in the mood for Kirk's games tonight, and the Cheshire cat smirk plastered all over Jim's face was also not helping matters in the slightest bit. "How the hell did you get into my quarters? That lock was supposed to be--"

"Yeah. We need to have a little chat about that. See, I tried my override code and nothing happened. So I tried it again and it still didn't work. That's a problem because I'm supposed to be able to access any room in the ship with that code. You know, being the Captain and all." Kirk propped himself up on one elbow and looked his friend in the eye. "What did you do, Bones?"

McCoy, avoiding Jim's question, walked over and pushed Kirk's legs off his bed. Growling, he said, "Get your damned shoes off my bed. They're full of dirt from Venga III."

"You're sidestepping me. What did you do? And who helped you? I know you can't do that reprogramming all by yourself." Jim raised an eyebrow. "And would it kill you to put on some clothes?"

McCoy rolled his eyes. "You've seen far worse than this, Jim. Do you remember that you were my roommate at the Academy? The ratio to what you saw from me compared to what I had to endure from you is off the charts unfair. I can assure you those are three years I will _never_ forget. I've seen more of you than my brain should have to handle, and that doesn't count the times I've acted as your doctor!"

Kirk laughed, knowing exactly what the doctor meant. Jim was a hellion, and back at the Academy, a bit of player. He fully admitted that. McCoy, on the other hand, was a completely different story; though on the rare occasions Bones cut loose, he did it up good and proper. "Right. And you were the poster child for sobriety and good behavior. Do I need to remind you of the time you challenged me to the Power Hour and then lost the bet--"

McCoy held up his hand to forestall the story he knew was coming. No, he did not need Jim Kirk rehashing quite possibly the most embarrassing moment of his life, and that included his childhood, time in college, med school and during his divorce. Combined. Apparently, trying to go shot for shot at Starfleet Academy with cadets half his age had been a very, very bad idea. Though Bones had no memory of the alleged incident, Kirk had pictures and video to prove that an incredibly inebriated McCoy had indeed stripped naked and streaked through campus on Jim's dare. His literal hide had only been spared because Pike, the reigning Czar of Discipline of Starfleet Academy at the time, thought it was so uncharacteristically hilarious for the straight-laced doctor to cause such a ruckus, he'd been unable to punish McCoy properly. The Captain had instead sent McCoy away with nothing but a severely bruised ego and a figurative slap on the wrist. Damn Kirk for never letting him forget that.

"No, Jim you do _not_ need to remind me that. And just drop the door thing, okay? It won't happen again." Truth be told, the doctor only wanted the change the subject because he didn't want to have to implicate Chekov as his helper. Kirk was right - there wasn't any way Bones could hack the system and alter it on his own. Turning, McCoy muttered, "What's the point of door locks when the Captain just breaks in anyway? 'Private quarters' my ass!"

"They're private enough, Bones."

McCoy shot Kirk a glare as he stuffed one leg into a pair of loose fitting pajama-type pants. "Says the criminal," Bones cut himself off dramatically. "Oh, I'm sorry. I mean to say, 'Says the Captain'."

Jim barked a laugh, the sound rich and reverberating off the walls.

"Now, what's the point of this, or are you just here to irritate me because you think it's a sport?" McCoy crossed his arms over his chest, a black shirt similar to Kirk's own dangling from his fingertips.

Jim hopped up off McCoy's bed. "Nope. I'm here on business."

The doctor's head poked through the top of his shirt. Frowning, he drawled, "Oh, really. Forgive me if I don't believe that." He motioned for Kirk to move to the tiny living area, situated near the door.

The captain settled himself in one of Bones' oversized arm chairs while McCoy padded over to the liquor cabinet, his bare feet making no noise on the carpet. Bones set two tumblers on the table and poured some whiskey into them. Kirk raised a questioning eyebrow.

"After today, I think I deserve a drink," Bones grumbled, splashing three fingers' worth of the amber liquid into each glass. He handed one to Kirk.

"I thought you quit that shit," Kirk replied. Picking up the glass, he sipped it and amended, "Not that I'm complaining, mind you. This is good, Bones. Where'd you get it?"

"I'm taking the Fifth on this one. The less you know, the better off you'll be," McCoy muttered.

"Right. Plausible deniability. I like it."

Bones grunted. "Now, what the hell is it you've come to pester me for? Haven't you gotten enough entertainment at my expense for one day?"

"Well first, I wanted to ask you what you thought about the samples we're carting back to Earth," Kirk asked.

"You mean that container of death and dismay we picked up from Starbase 87, the one now locked safely in my office?" McCoy asked.

"I don't think I'd put it so much like that, but yeah. That one."

McCoy scoffed hard. "Damned foolish if you ask me. We're out in the black in a pressurized tin can. One leak in that casing - that's all it would take and all of us would die, slowly and painfully. And there wouldn't be a thing I could do."

"Tell me again, what exactly are they?" Kirk asked seriously. He wasn't sure if McCoy was talking about the container for the samples or the ship itself. Though Bones always had a flair for the dramatic, the look in his eyes told Kirk that the surgeon was genuinely concerned about the latest batch of Federation property being ferried around by the starship. McCoy was never very good at keeping his emotions from his face, most particularly his eyes, and it was one of the doctor's tells Jim was glad to be able to read.

Bones ran a hand through his still-wet hair. "They're cryogenically frozen, inactive virus and poison samples from old, 20th and 21st century Earth diseases. During their time, Ebola, malaria, tuberculosis, H1N1, ricin - they were all fatal in varying degrees. With the exception of ricin, which is a poison, all the samples are contagious diseases that caused a pandemic at some point in history. Ricin's fatal dose is about half the size of a grain of sand."

Kirk furrowed his brows. "So they're all old diseases. It sounds like the only thing we really have to be concerned about is the ricin. And besides, they're inactive."

"And that's where you're wrong, Jim. Ricin scares me because there's still no cure for it, but the other diseases flat-out terrify me. One of them, let alone the group, could literally wipe out this entire ship. We haven't seen diseases like those in over 200 years, so _none_ of us are going to have any kind of immunity to them. Ebola's a hemorrhagic fever. It'll liquefy your body from the inside out. Malaria, TB and H1N1 could all cripple this ship with how many sick, feverish, vomiting, coughing and downright miserable people we'll have. That's if we're lucky. People would die if it got loose."

Jim repeated himself. "But, you said they're inactive. How could anyone be infected if the virus is dead?"

"I don't trust the work of someone else. And, since I'm not about to open the Box of Black Plague on a starship with recycled air, I'm working under the assumption that the viruses are living. Call me paranoid, Jim, but I want to be safe."

Kirk laughed. "You're paranoid, Bones."

McCoy nodded.

"So, let's just say for a minute that these viruses are actually living. What's the treatment regimen?"

"Standard treatment of those diseases back in the 20th and 21st centuries was a healthy dose of antibiotics and to let the disease either run its course or hope for it to go into remission. Most of all, people used to just cross their fingers and pray," McCoy answered. "It's not much of a cure, but there's nothing we can do."

Abnormally silent, Jim processed all the information. "And if it gets loose?"

"We lock down the ship, and try to contain it. Unfortunately, with the exception of Ebola, they're all airborne in transmission, so there's not much hope to keep it from making its way though the ventilation system. And there's not much I could do, because I don't have any of the anti-vaccines on board. I'd have to manufacture them, and then I don't know how the crew would react to it."

"So, we'd better make sure nothing gets out. You said it's locked up in your office, right?"

McCoy took a sip of his drink. "Yeah. Tucked away in my safe. Only people who can open it are you, me, Chapel and M'Benga."

"Good. Be sure it stays there, Doctor," Kirk replied, satisfied with the explanation.

"Oh, you don't need to tell me twice. I don't need that shit floating around this tin can," McCoy amended. Kirk chucked as heard Bones mumble something about, '_Disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence_.'

"Bones, you signed up for Starfleet. I didn't make you. And I specifically remember reminding you on that shuttle that we operate in space," Kirk taunted. "You could have backed out then."

Mumbling some more curses under his breath, Bones deftly side-stepped Jim's line of question with, "I still don't know why we have to take it back anyway."

Kirk clapped his friend on the back. "Because Starfleet says so. I might be in charge of this, 'pressurized tin can,' but I still do what the Admiralty says, much as I may dislike them."

The two men sat and drank in silence for a few minutes, neither one minding the quiet that permeated the room. Finally, McCoy turned his head to address Kirk. "I know you didn't break into my personal quarters just to ask me about the virus samples. What do you _really_ want, Jim?"

"Your powers of observation are improving, Bones," Jim gently kidded.

"My, 'powers of observation' tell me that you're here right now to be a pain in my ass, Kid," Bones shot back.

"That's my purpose in life. It's the side duty I signed up for, and the one Pike gave me. It's a rough job, but someone has to do it." Jim snarked back. Pausing, he asked, "No, Bones. In all reality, I need a favor from you."

McCoy scoffed, placing one hand dramatically over his chest. "Oh? From me? The great James Tiberius Kirk needs something from his lowly, long-suffering CMO?"

"Quit being such a drama queen, Bones, and just shut up and listen," Jim scolded. "God. I swear you're worse than my sister!"

"You don't have a sister," McCoy retorted.

"Exactly my point."

"Touché." McCoy took a sip of his drink and leaned back into the cushions of the couch. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. It hit the backrest with a light 'thump.' Without opening his eyes, McCoy sighed, "All right, Jim. I'll bite, though lord knows I shouldn't. What do you want?"

Kirk set his drink down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I told Ratchet that I would allow him to stay on the ship and that we'd help him find his species, if they still exist."

"Isn't that our job?" McCoy asked, cracking one eye open.

"Yeah it is, but this guy has both Spock and me a little concerned. He's huge, he's strong and he's got a hell of a lot of knowledge about humanity we can't seem to corroborate."

"How so?"

"Well, if you'd stuck around instead of having a man-fit, you might already know," Kirk shot back, unable to resist the small barb directed at the doctor.

McCoy picked his head up off the couch and shot his friend a look specifically saying, '_Don't go there,'_ over the rim of his glass.

Kirk put his hands up in a friendly gesture of surrender. "All right! Put down the figurative hyposprays and relax, Bones. Basically, Ratchet gave us a little different version of what happened a couple hundred years ago. I gotta admit his version makes a lot more sense, given what he is."

"And what, exactly, _is_ he?" McCoy asked. "Because I would really like to know."

Kirk launched into the story Ratchet had shown him and Spock, complete with all the missing details about Megatron, Mission City, The Fallen, Egypt and the U.S. Government's involvement with the cover-up. Throughout the story, McCoy said nothing, instead settling for grunts in the appropriate places.

When Jim finished, Bones still wasn't convinced. "So you meet one strange alien who tells you a fancy story about what he supposedly lived through, and you throw away all properly recorded history on a whim?"

"No. That's what I'm saying." Kirk shook his head. "I'm not just disregarding everything I knew about our past, but I can't discount what Ratchet's saying as untrue, either."

McCoy leaned back on the couch and propped one foot up on the coffee table, internalizing a sigh. He knew that look on Kirk's face too well. It was the one the captain usually wore when he was thinking too hard about something that didn't really concern him in the first place. Tentatively, Bones asked, "What is it, exactly, that you're suggesting?"

'_Here goes nothing_,' Jim thought. Trying to be as casual as possible, Kirk said, "I had to come up with a happy medium. You know Grankowski would have my balls if I let Ratchet wander around unchecked, but on the other hand, I can't treat him like a prisoner, either. He's done nothing to warrant it. It wouldn't be right."

"Like he'd fit anywhere," Bones muttered, pouring himself and Kirk another drink.

"Besides that very obvious point," Kirk started, "I don't know how we'd check him out, and we don't know anything about him or his species. There's nothing in the Federation databases, and no one has even _heard_ of any type of creatures. So, Spock and I came to the conclusion that he needs to have a liaison with him at all times. It had to be someone I trust, and someone who he could deal with on a personal level."

The wheels in McCoy's head began to turn, the doctor's brain slamming on the proverbial brakes when he put two and two together. Nearly spitting the outrageously expensive bourbon all over the room, Bones sputtered, "Me? You mean me? Oh, hell no, Jim! I'm a doctor, not a politician. There is no way I'm going to waste my time babysitting a giant alien robot so he can try to comm home!"

The Captain smirked. "Why not? What's so bad about it? You're both doctors, you do the same things, and I think you could learn from him. Didn't you just say we're supposed to help out when we can?"

"Yes, but that's not---"

Kirk cut McCoy off before he could finish his thought. "Good. It's settled."

McCoy was incredulous. "The hell it is! No, Jim, and I will say it until my voice is gone. No, I will not. Just…_NO_!"

"Why not, Bones? You're always complaining that you don't get out of your medical bay enough. Now, here I am, giving you the opportunity, and you're acting like a child about it," Kirk replied.

Bones rubbed his tired eyes with the pads of his fingers. Kirk was right. "I know that, Jim. I just don't think I'm the right man for the job. I can't do it, not without wanting to kill him," McCoy admitted aloud. To himself, he acknowledged that maybe he and Ratchet were too similar to be in that close of proximity to each other for any extended period of time. The ship wasn't big enough for that.

Jim sat up, his face relaxed and smiling but his eyes dead serious. He'd heard what he needed, and now it was time to be the Captain, not McCoy's best friend. "Yes, you will. You don't have to like it, but you will do it, Doctor."

McCoy put his hands on his hips and hung his head. He knew that 'Captain' tone when he heard it. Jim was one short step from ordering him to do it, and McCoy didn't really want to have to force his friend's hand like that. Bones chewed lightly on his bottom lip, a habit Kirk long recognized as one that signaled irritation from the doctor. He sighed and then looked up. "All right. I'll do it. But I swear to you the moment that giant tin can tries something funny with me, I'll weld his tailpipe shut!"

"You don't even know how to use the welder, Bones," Kirk, smirking, reminded his friend.

McCoy took a gulp of bourbon. Staring straight ahead, McCoy was deadpanned. "I'll learn. That talking piece of metal will be a great training tool."

Kirk internally laughed. McCoy was so amusing when he was pissed, which happened to be often. At the present moment, the doctor reminded the captain of an angry porcupine, his hair sticking up in all directions, his face slightly puffy and red and breathing harder than normal. But, as funny as McCoy could be, actually _dealing_ with his moods presented an entirely different challenge. Sighing, Kirk said, "You're not going to make this easy, are you?"

"Absolutely not!" came the doctor's vehement reply.

The captain rolled his eyes. Some days, Jim wished he'd been assigned a different, significantly less annoying roommate at the Academy. Looking at McCoy literally pouting on the couch next to him, Kirk was also certain that more often than not, the feeling was completely mutual. "Bones, I mean it. You can't just ignore him, and you can't use him as experiment, either. If you try, I'll let Ratchet teach you ancient human football and let him use _you_ as the ball. I guarantee that a good portion of this ship's company, you know the ninety percent that thinks you're the devil incarnate, will appreciate it. Who knows? I might even sell tickets."

McCoy responded by cursing liberally and muttering under his breath about daredevil commanders barely old enough to be out of diapers. It was a comment that Kirk pretended not to hear.

"Well, I'm off." Jim knocked back the dregs of his glass and set it on the table. Hopping to his feet, he walked to the door. As he reached the threshold, he looked back at the doctor. "Promise me you'll at least make an effort to get along with Ratchet before you try and turn his exhaust inside out?"

McCoy gave Kirk a non-committal grunt of understanding. "I'll try," he mumbled.

Kirk nodded. "That's all I can ask. G'night, Bones."

"Goodnight, you pain in my ass," McCoy answered to Kirk's retreated back. When Kirk hovered in the doorway, McCoy tossed out, "Now are you going to leave, or do you plan on haunting my quarters all evening?"

Jim waved a hand in the air. "All right, all right. I'm going. Keep you pants on, Bones. You scare my crew enough as it is."

With the proverbial parting shot across the bow, Kirk took off. The temporary bright light from the hallway disappeared, once again bathing the room in semi-darkness. McCoy slammed the remains of his drink and poured himself a third. If he was going to have a conversation tonight with a certain Federation guest, he thought maybe a little inhibition killer would be just the thing to help him through it.

The doctor grabbed the two used glasses and the bottle of bourbon from the table. He deposited the glasses in the proper receptacle and stowed the alcohol in its original and safe spot. The CMO stood in the middle of his quarters contemplating his next move. Exhaling harshly, McCoy ran one hand through his hair.

Looking up, Bones barked, "Computer! Location of that…thing we brought on board earlier."

"_More specifics are required. Please restate your inquiry_."

McCoy scowled and tried again. "Location of the universe's biggest pain in my ass!"

"_Invalid entry. Please restate your inquiry_."

"Dammit, I don't want to 'restate my inquiry.' Just tell me where the hell Ratchet is!"

"_Federation guest Ratchet is presently located in the cargo bay three_."

"Useless piece of space junk." McCoy muttered, though his double entendre was clear. He grabbed his communicator, jammed his feet in a pair of boots and exited his quarters.

* * *

**Next Up**: McCoy and Ratchet go toe to toe, and Scotty finally meets the giant fighting robot.


End file.
